


study in normalcy and the nature of change

by Kalael



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Jon, Do Not Archive, Elias does not, Empathic Martin, M/M, Observer Tim, Tim believes in enthusiastic consent, Unintentionally Manipulative Tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13701348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: “We used to be normal.” Tim grouses. Martin sits beside him, silent and only mostly unsympathetic. “I mean, as normal as you can be in a place where evil eye gods run a library about ghosts.”He’s going to take over this damn place and then raze it to the ground.  Jon may well be a lost cause, and Melanie doesn’t realize how deeply in over her head she is, but Martin still has some fight in him.  Tim knows, can See it the way he hates he knows how to.





	1. Chapter 1

“We used to be normal.” Tim grouses. Martin sits beside him, silent and only mostly unsympathetic. “I mean, as normal as you can be in a place where _evil eye gods_ run a library about ghosts.”

They’re sitting at the kebab shop down the street from the institute, the building looming in the corner of Tim’s eye. He feels both disgusted and relieved by how much better his body feels with that hellish place in sight. He still hasn’t fully recovered from his too-long absence and it’s taken its toll on him. Martin shoves another kebab into his hands.

“Well, to be fair, it’s not as though we knew at the time that our employer is a murderously diabolical maniac.” Martins says glumly. Tim sighs and leans against his shoulder, a light pressure, but enough to get Martin frowning. “You’re still too thin. I can’t believe you managed to keep away so long.”

“Yeah, well,” Tim bites out, “I thought for a time that I’d rather die than come back.”

“But you did come back.” Martin’s voice is soft, unlike his heavy arm as it comes around Tim’s shoulder.

“So I did.” Tim grimaces and shoves the kebab into his mouth, eager to let that conversation lie. For all his incompetence in field work Martin is remarkably empathic, and he doesn’t say anything more about it. That must be why Elias dragged poor Martin into this, Tim thinks bitterly. God knows Martin is terrible with paperwork, but the man’s ability to read a room has sharpened considerably since working in the archives. Before Martin would only get a sense of things, still managing to blunder about thoughtlessly, but now…Tim takes another vicious bite of kebab and tries not to think about the changes that overcame them both. 

He fails. The worst part is that Tim didn’t even realize it while the changes were happening. It makes sense though. How would any fucking _normal_ person be able to get access to police records by just charming people into handing over restricted documents? They haven't been normal for a long time, Tim knows. They haven’t been normal since they started breathing in that dusty archive air.

“You’re unusually introspective.” Martin points out. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

Tim knows what compulsion feels like, recognizes that tingling in the back of his mind. Martin only half realizes that he’s doing it, and Tim can see the regret on his face.

“We’ve not been normal for a long time,” Tim murmurs. “I tried to convince myself that the only one truly changed, or claimed, whatever, was Jon. But that’s not true. We’ve been marked too.”

“Yes.” Martin nods. He does not compel Tim to say more, but there’s no point keeping silent now.

“You know, I liked to think I was special when I was under the impression that we were normal. I just thought I was quite skilled at handling people. Putty.” Tim pokes his kebab stick at the soggy chips in front of them. “It’s a bit of a downer to realize that the archive did make us...special, in that it gave me an ability I didn’t really want.”

He’d never considered what he did ‘manipulation’. The art of conversation was just that to him; an art. Learning his words could actually convince people to do things beyond their will was jarring, and still leaves a sick feeling in his stomach. He’s always been a strong believer in enthusiastic consent and the idea of the supernatural twisting his good intentions is, frankly, awful.

“With great power comes great responsibility, right?” Martin jokes and rubs his hand over Tim’s arm, attempting to be reassuring, and Tim knows that Martin aches the way he does. The way Jon probably does. It’s a nasty thought, knowing his crazy boss is suffering the same as them, and it sends Tim’s mood spiraling further into irritation. Beside him Martin sighs and pulls him in for a loose hug.

After Sasha, or Not Sasha, had gone and died or whatever it was monsters did when they vanished into the tunnels, Martin had begun fussing about Tim the way he did with Jon. At first Tim found it annoying and more than a bit suspicious, but then he realized it was the only way Martin could handle this new surge of empathic power. What unnerved Tim at the time was the fact that he didn’t really make that observation himself. He had just Seen it. The same way he could See Jon tearing at the seams, desperate to keep others safe and making himself crazy trying to find answers. Tim had found a kind of solace in displacing his anger on his coworkers. Now that he Understands, he finds it much harder to do that.

“Yeah.” Tim sighs. Martin startles at the easy acquiescence. “Let’s get back to it, then. That ‘great responsibility’, or what have you.”

He has to lean on Martin the entire walk back to the archives, his body weak from even this limited time and distance. Martin is worried, but pleased by Tim’s willingness to rely on him.

Tim tries not to let the information he Sees overwhelm him, and more importantly, tries not to accept this new normal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but absolutely one of my favorites. Enjoy some soft sad boys.

The easiest thing to accept in the archive’s new routine is the fact that Martin and Tim have gotten into the habit of sleeping together. That’s it, though. Just sleeping. Tim has been too wary and angry for anything more than a few kisses, and Martin has no interest in pushing him. Besides, Martin likes that Tim allows this much. Just sleeping side by side, two men trekking on through a war they have no means of comprehending. Privately, Martin compares them to the X-men. It’s childish and more than a bit silly, but it makes him feel a bit better when Tim shuts down after Seeing something he hadn’t intended to.

Empathy isn’t new to him. Martin always had a knack for picking up on the feelings of others. Before and even during the first few months of the archives he’d just gone about it the wrong way, often misinterpreting things and making a situation worse. Now he’s a bit more confident in his intuition, and it’s certainly helped with all the tension at work.

But just as he knows how Tim feels about his ability, Martin wishes he could turn his own off. It gets stressful constantly knowing the feelings of Jon or Tim or Melanie or the fucking barista at Pret A Manger on the corner. It would be easier if anyone would ever just let Martin _do_ something about it. Hardly anyone does, just gives him weak smiles and excuses and sends him on his way. Not anymore. He refuses to be brushed off. Martin brings Jon cheese and ham sandwiches, if he can’t persuade the damn man to get fresh air and a properly fresh sausage roll. He annoys Melanie into leaving the building for a coffee. Once or twice he’s even gotten Elias to take a stroll, the unspoken promise of tea for Jon a solid enough bribe.

Tim is both the easiest and most difficult. Tim is always game to leave the institute, but having him open up and lean on anyone about it is harder than getting Melanie to admit she doesn’t know the difference between a light roast and a dark roast.

“You’re coming to my place,” Martin announces at the end of lunch break one day. He’s careful to keep compulsion out of it. Tim narrows his eyes and takes one, two, five, seven deep inhales. Martin waits patiently. Tim nods and puts out his cigarette on the park bench.

“Alright. We’ll take the tube tomorrow, rather than walking.” Tim says. That opens enough doors, leaves them cracked and inviting. Martin gives a crooked smile and Tim flushes.

It’s just a foot in said door, a sliver of light in the looming dark. Martin takes what he can get, and feels the way Tim’s heart twists between them.

They curl together that night, Martin bravely resting a hand over the dip of Tim’s waist and Tim tentatively tangling their ankles together. They breathe quietly together, eyes locked like an infinity mirror, information overloading between them. Tim breaks first, and surges forward to kiss Martin like it’s the last bit of air he’ll ever breathe.

Martin gasps out a laugh and rolls them over. The rest is burned into the Beholding’s sight far more vividly than desired, and done halfway out of spite.

Tim wakes first, as usual. Martin is curled heavily against his back and for a moment Tim considers just vanishing into the warmth. It’s tempting. But the tang of sickness lingers at the back of his throat and it takes less than a minute to crawl away from the comfort and towards the toilet.

“Tim?” Martin calls sleepily from the bed. Tim vomits loudly in reply.

It doesn’t take long for Martin to place the duvet over Tim’s shoulders and settle on the linoleum behind him, rubbing gentle circles through the fabric as Tim wretches again. It’s not a new routine but it’s no less embarrassing. Martin mutters unintelligible words of comfort, Tim heaves up his stomach, and the duvet will need to be washed again. It’s almost normal.

“We can’t keep meeting like this.” Tim jokes once the bile subsides, and Martin chortles out a broken sound.

“Don’t.” He says. So Tim doesn’t.

They sit on that cold linoleum for a long time, resting against each other and dividing the pull of the archives between them.


End file.
